


Stole the show.

by ichkenndichdreiviertel



Category: Football RPF
Genre: M/M, cold war au, mario's kinda the third wheel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2016-10-10
Packaged: 2018-08-21 17:41:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,825
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8254687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ichkenndichdreiviertel/pseuds/ichkenndichdreiviertel
Summary: cold war au.
Marco and Robert met as children in East Berlin. They grew up at each other's side. Until one day Marco realizes that friendship isn't really what he wants.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so sorry for my poor English, it's been a really long while since I last wrote something in English... Also, prepare for some historical inaccuracies cause there might be some... That being said, I hope you'll enjoy !

**East Berlin, 1972.**

  
As long as Marco could remember, it had always been Mario and Robert and him. He could not quite exactly recall how Mario and he had come to befriend the little Polish kid, but since he had arrived that day at school, he had joined their little duo, not that he was complaining. They had been six years old when they had met,were now ten and their friendship did nothing but get stronger. Robert had followed his family to Berlin, when his dad had gotten a job here in East Berlin – something complicated, having to do with the government, or how the boys liked to call it : _adult business._ They, on the other hand, had no such things to worry about. Life was quite simple : do well in school and you're going to get by very easily. So they did their homeworks, sometimes in the library, sometimes at Mario's – his mother would prepare something to eat and they'd seat quietly at the kitchen table with their brows frowned and their tongues sticking out as they covered pages and pages in ink. On the week-end, when they were not busy, they sometimes met at Marco's who had a great collection of toy cars they could play with.

It still amazed him, though, how different Robert was with them than with the rest of the world. Where he was always shy and stuttering in class, he was probably the wildest of the three when they were left on their own. All the hours they spent on his bedroom floor, laughing til tears flooded their eyes, seemed to be some kind of vague wishes and dreams when they were at school, as if Robert did not want to act in any way that would make him stand out. He probably felt better off with staying in the back than risking being not accepted by the rest of his peers at school ; after all, he was not German like all of them and memories of the war, even if he did not live it, were still fresh in the minds of his family. Marco did not care, he liked the boy just the same. Actually, he felt rather privileged to be his friend and to get to know him outside of school.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1977.**

  
« Götze, Lewandowski, Reus, congratulations you made it on the team, » the voice of their P.E. Teacher called from the other end of the gym.  
  
With the news finally arriving, Marco allowed himself to fall to the ground, sighing and smiling. It was the result of a lifelong dream and he had worked very hard to finally get on the football team of his highschool. The whole day had been nothing but tryouts and he didn't know how he still managed to stand on his two feet afer all he had run and all the balls he had kicked – actually, he wasn't even standing anymore.   
  
« Stand up, Coach wants to see us ! » said Robert.

And as the familiar voice frayed its way in his mind, he finally caught the sight of his best friend coming over. The tall Polish seemed exhausted and helped him out getting up while Marco greeted him with his familiar grin. What made him even happier about the news was that his two best friends were also going to be playing on the school team. There were no sign of Mario, but there was no doubt they'd see him sooner or later in the Coach's office.

« I can't believe we made it, » Marco started, amazement still shining in his eyes.  
« Of course we were going to make it, we're the best this school has ever seen and you know it, » Robert answered, an amused smile painted on his lips.  
« _I_ am the best, _you_ only wish you were as good as me, » the blonde boy answered playfully.

Robert put his arms around his shoulders as they walked to office and there was nothing that could have worn Marco's smile off.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1980.**

  
The final whistle blew in the air and Marco ran into Robert's arms, screaming with excitement. They had made it. They had won the championship and it felt like being named king of the world to him and the best part of it was it was mainly thanks to Robert and him that they did. The Pole had scored a hat-trick and he a brace and they had won 5-4 against West Berlin, which was quite the miracle.

« Can you believe it ? » he kept repeating to his friend, a victorious grin on his face.  
« How did we manage that ? » Robert kept answering, still holding his friends in his arms.  
« You guys truly are the best ! » Mario added, having finally caught up with his friends but they barely heard him.

The School decided to throw a celebration party the next day, a kind of ball celebrating the value of hard work and perseverance. Marco and Robert were the only ones on the team that showed up without a partner. Mario came with his long date girlfriend, so did Mats and Toni and Thomas. Of course, they could have asked anyone out now, but truth be told, they didn't feel like it. Marco, at least, didn't. Strangely, he only wanted to celebrate with Robert. Robert however confided he just didn't see the point to seek a girl's attention when he knew his parents already had plans for him with the daughter of a coworker of his dad. Marco couldn't help but feel angered by that confession but he just smiled and nodded and said he understood when he truly didn't understand how his best friend could accept so calmly everything his parents decided. But then he wasn't the rebellious type either, seeing he had already basically accepted his father's offer to work for the government also later on. But why did he feel so angry by that news, then ? He decided to dance it off. After all, he was an eighteen years old handsome football champion, he could leave the worrying for another day.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1983.**

It was the end of June and his football days were now long over. After Marco had graduated, he had almost immediately started to work at his father's office. It was boring but it paid pretty well, for the time and the place at least. Things had changed since he had finished high school. Mario, for example, was already married to his high-school girlfriend. It had been a beautiful ceremony but it had felt weird being the only one still single. Indeed, Robert had shown up with that girl his father had told him about, Anna Something, Marco hadn't bothered to remember her name. The ceremony had felt quite lonely, watching his friends dance with their girls while he had no one to keep him company. He couldn't help but feel a pang of jealousy seeing Robert in his dashing suit smiling at his future wife, not that he couldn't find any girl to match his own expectations but he didn't feel like it. He was fine as he was, with his job and his friends, even though he sometimes couldn't help but miss the football days when he would constantly be with his friends. Everything had felt so simpler then. He was still close with Mario and Robert, especially the second since the first one had other preoccupations now with his job and his wife to attend to. Robert was finishing his studies in literature and couldn't shut up about the play he wanted to write.

Marco was meeting with him this afternoon since the other boy wanted to talk to him about his project. The blonde felt glad Anna wasn't there when he arrived, happy to share a bit of time alone with his friend.

« I can't believe you want to write a play, » Marco stated , still amazed by this fact.  
« Why, am I not a good writer ? » Robert answered, quite hurt by the remark.  
« No, not at all. It's just that... I guess I didn't see you utter more than three words in a sentence to the rest of the world during all of our time together, I mean except when you were with Mario and me, so... » He took a deep breath before going on. « Maybe I'm just afraid that you won't need to talk to me as much now, » he admitted, his cheeks getting red from being embarassed.  
« You're dumb, » Robert answered in a chuckle.  
« I know ? »  
« Like really, really dumb sometimes. »  
« I'm sorry, » he said rearranging his hair to distract himself from Robert's smile.  
« I hope you know I'll always need to talk to you, » the Pole finally said.

Marco had grinned and they had begin to talk about Robert's plan and messing around with each other like they always ended up doing. Later that evening, Anna found them lying on the ground of the living room with papers scattered all around them, bodies close but not really touching, with mad smiles on their faces.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1986.**

It was hard being a writer in East Germany. Everything you did was scrutinized to be sure you didn't go against the regime. Marco was pretty sure Robert could be watched or taped if he did anything the slightest bit wrong but the Pole didn't want to give up on his dream so he kept supporting him no matter what. He went to the premiere of the play, with Anna and Mario and Ann-Kathrin, Mario's wife, and he had to admit it was a beautiful show, even though there was nothing particularly outstanding about it. The performers were great, the writing too. It was just nice to see Robert that happy. He had the same smile plastered on his face as the day they had won the championship and Marco couldn't help but smile too. At the end, after congratulating him, he hugged him, maybe a bit too long, maybe a bit too tight, he didn't know for sure but Anna's eyes were no doubt throwing daggers at him. All he could remember was that it didn't feel long enough.

He knew it wasn't normal to feel that sort of things for his best friend. Yes, they had always been close, but that was the type of feelings you were supposed to have about _girls._ He tried ignoring it but he couldn't help the twist in his stomach everytime he spent time with Robert. He couldn't help that he dreamt about the other boy's lips at night or that he wished Anna had never met him. He just tried to keep it to himself, dark thoughts he would never dare to let out of his brain, but was beginning to feel he would fail miserably at hiding it any longer, especially if Robert kept not minding all the attention and affection. It happened on a cold snowy December day. They had gone out for a drink, Robert and Mario and he, for old times' sake. Mario had left them a bit earlier but they had decided to stay out a little bit longer. And when they had walked home together later that night and Robert had pulled him into a hug to tell him goodbye, Marco couldn't help it and he pressed his lips against Robert's. The kiss hadn't last longer than a few seconds but it had been enough to know, when he met Robert's sorry eyes, that the Pole could never give him more.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1987.**

Strangely, it took only a few days for the taller man to change his mind. Marco didn't really understand what made him change his ways and why he had stood at his door on that early January morning but he had gladly welcomed the decision and behind the safety of the closed door, they had finally let their bodies express all of the words that didn't dare escape their lips. They never talked about it, never uttered the three words that made Marco's heart race whenever the Pole kissed him or whenever he felt his skin against his. It stayed a secret they shared in the darkness, when no one was watching. A world of heir own where no one could come into. A safe space of a sort. They met at different places, with different patterns each time, for they knew what society would think of it if their affair made the news. Robert was becoming more successful each year and he was now engaged to Anna. Marco worked fort the government. He had seen enough men like him to know that a happy ending wasn't in line for them. Yet, he couldn't bring himself to put an end to their relationship. He loved Robert and Robert loved him and nothing could ever change that. And he had to play like all of this never happened when he stepped in public.

It felt like a dream.

It felt like a nightmare.

  
  


**East Berlin, 1988.**

Marco couldn't do this anymore. He just couldn't. He felt sick watching Anna and Robert play the perfect couple when he knew Robert's heart truly belonged to him. He couldn't bear watching all the happy couples out there when he and Robert could never live their love in the daylight. It wasn't fair. And one night, he told Robert. He was doing it, he was crossing the wall and going to West Berlin. He had heard that it was slightly better for people like him there, where people danced to Bowie songs without risking being shot. He had been to the concert last year like many East-Berliners, up on one building's roof, trying to see and hear as much as he could from the other side of the wall. He wanted to live in a country where he could be free to do and be what he wanted and couldn't have that there. He begged Robert to come with him, time and time again, but his pleadings were always met with a cold “no” from his lover. Robert would not risk everything he had built and there was no way to change his mind. Marco had felt as if his heart was going to break. Robert let him go and did not betray him to the government like could have though.

When Marco arrived on the other side with his poor bag containing nothing more than a few pieces of clothes and a photograph of Robert and Mario and him on that beautiful day on the football pitch, he struggled to see the good in his decision. He definitely felt happier back then with his friends by his side. Yet, now was the time for new beginnings and he couldn't go back. He had to believe in hope.

  
  


**Berlin, 1989, the 9th of November.**

Marco had watched Schabowski's declaration on television. As soon as he had heard the man say orders were to open all passages between East and West Berlin as of right now, he had left his apartment – as did thousands of other Berliners. They all marched to the wall where they were met with cries of joy and cheering from his side and demands to pass on the other. It took several hours til authorities stopped trying to contain the will to cross the border from all East Berliners gathered around them. Then, it was a real sea of humans that flowed into West Berlin – Berlin, Berlin now, he corrected himself mentally. There were reunions everywhere around him. Families that had been separated for far too long or just people overwhelmed by the joy of the moment and Marco couldn't help but search for one particular face. Would Robert come, now ? Would he dare come back to him ? He went from one person to another asking about the whereabouts of a Robert Lewandowski, telling people that he, Marco Reus, was looking for him. It felt like hours before his eyes set on the one face he wanted to see in the middle of the crowd.

First, he looked at him sternly, the bitterness of the past year coming back to him in an instant.  
Robert seemed to feel the same, going by the blank look that was painted on his face.

Then, his lips began to spread into a smile and before he knew it he was grinning like a madman to his best friend and lover and favourite person in the world.   
And there it was, his favourite smile in the world, plastered on Robert's lips.

His heart began beating faster. He saw Robert quickly turning away, wiping his teary eyes with his arm.

And then, he stopped thinking. He ordered his legs to run into Robert's direction, crashing into him while the Pole took him into his arms, holding him tight.

Their lips met.

And for once, they didn't give a damn about what the rest of the world might think. 

They were finally home.

 


End file.
